The Temple of Aries

"My lady, it is good to see you in here."

Clytemnestra had felt someone watching her from the door of the temple. In this stifling heat, she felt she could sense anything if it managed to move. Any motion would bring an air current to her that gave her the false hope of wind, but was quickly dispelled as the sweltering heat touched her skin once more.

She turned from her kneeling position and eyed the visitor warily. "And you, also, Achilles," she replied quietly, returning to her prostration before the statue. She closed her eyes and tried to resume her prayers once more, but found that the heat and the knowledge that she was being watched were too distracting. Sighing, she decided to lie down on the silk pillow and try to at least get some rest. She had knelt before the small figure of Aries since the sun's zenith, and was too exhausted to mind her guests. Perhaps she might pray better if she could relax.

I pray thee, bring him the Wind that will carry his ships across the sea. Bring Agamemnon the storm that will help him to devour Troy. Bring him the Wind that will carry him away from me.

She felt a little self-conscious, knowing that what she was praying for was not entirely for the good of her husband, and that she was thinking it in the presence of a stranger, but she willed herself to think it nonetheless. She did not understand it herself, but sometimes she felt she needed to rebel against him. She knew she should not, that the good wives of Greece kept their eyes on the ground and their doors unlocked, but she could not help thinking of all that he had done to her. All that he had not done for her.

He was still there, and he had moved closer. In fact, he had taken a seat very near her, so near that she could feel the heat from his body on her own. She frowned a little, and turned on her side so that her face was to the statue, and the part of her body closest to Achilles was her sandaled foot.

She did not want to be so close to him, but in playing the dutiful wife, she needed to attend to her guests as they wished. She knew what he did, that he was a mercenary hired by Agamemnon, and famous for his legendary invincibility. She still thought it funny, that her husband should take such an interest in restoring Menelaus' wife to him. Everyone who met him knew his ulterior motive, the reason behind every strategy he had helped play. Agamemnon would use both Helen and his brother to reach his goal of dominion over Troy. She had heard him, when she left their cold bed and went to find him, pouring over nautical maps and plotting with the heads of the Mycenaean army. He had talked to their daughter, even, telling her of the riches they would receive from Troy once he conquered it.

She sat up straight in alarm when she felt an unexpected hand on her foot. Achilles saw her start, and removed his hand, bowing his golden head briefly in her direction. "Forgive me, Lady," he said in his calm, deep voice. "But you were trembling."

Clytemnestra turned her face back toward the statue of Aries. In the fading light, shadows threw half the face in darkness, and now she felt like she could not pray anymore. Perhaps she would leave.

As she stood to go, she felt the man's blue eyes on her, holding her. "Did you get what you asked for?"

She sighed, and looked down at Achilles. He even knelt like a warrior, appearing to be at rest, but in reality prepared to spring up at a moment's notice. And like a warrior, he sought what was close at hand, what mattered most at the moment, pure honesty. Not like her husband. Agamemnon was renowned throughout Greece as the man who had forced his way into every home using power and wit. He had even entrapped Achilles into his service through cunning negotiations and deals with the other kings he reigned over. He had used his wit to claim Clytemnestra as his bride.

Even at night, the heat was intense as ever. She turned her face to the open doorway of the temple, searching for the breeze that would not come. She could see the ocean from her vantage as the sun gave last light over the water, but no wind came.

"I think you know that what I ask for, what we all ask for, has yet been in vain," she said finally. "The ships are still in port, after all."

He smiled at her, but there was something in his eyes that implied he was thinking far away thoughts. When she had seen him at dinner the previous night, while she entertained all of Agamemnon's officers from her head table, he had behaved in the same way, pensive, restrained. Then he seemed to come back to himself. "I do not think we seek the same end."

She knew then that she should have left before he said anything, but as he did, she knew he had intrigued her. "And what is it that my lord seeks in the Temple of Aries, if not a swift journey to Troy?"

He stood up, then, and reached his full, immense height. The glow of the sunset combated with the golden radiance of Achilles, and lost. He came towards her, holding her gaze all the while.

"Am I speaking to the wife of the High King Agamemnon, or to Clytemnestra?"

She was flustered, to say the least. "My lord, please," she tried. Then, after a moment, "But what is spoken in the temple is for the gods only to hear. Even my king could not request such of me." She should have left, once more, but her feet were rooted and her sights fixed on his motionless blue eyes.

He bent to her ear, and she struggled to hear him over the beating of her heart. "I would that Helen were drowned in the sea, or thrown from the highest Trojan wall, before the wind should come."

"Only if Menelaus went with her," she whispered in response, surprising herself.

He stepped back so that he was looking at her again, and this time a genuine smile graced his face. "Ah, but if only our king could see the two fools that we see. Worthless. It all means nothing to no one."

"It means Troy to Agamemnon, and that means the world."

He nodded, but his smile turned to a grimace. He folded his arms behind his back and walked back to face the statue. "So it is land. Here, again, I fight for something I will never have."

She took a step towards him, beseeching him, "Then why do you fight for such a man? Were you to leave Agamemnon, no Mycenaen could touch you! He cannot keep you here." She watched him for a moment, as he continued to watch the changing shadows over the statue of the god of war. "But there is something for you, in this war, is there not?"

He faced her again, and she could see sadness entering his being. "You cannot understand, lady. Not you or anyone, but Thetis came to me and bade me go to Troy. Something is there, and I cannot name it myself, nor can I say that I understand it myself, but it will only come to me if I meet it head on. Somewhere on the beaches of Troy is my destiny." He seemed to search her face for any sign of sympathy.

Clytemnestra frowned. "Would your destiny not be as great if you stayed in Greece, without destroying Priam? Would your destiny be any different if Helen remains a Mycenaen or a Trojan? For she is neither, she is a Spartan, and Paris does not keep her any more than Menelaus does." Achilles turned back to the statue. "And you, my lord, do belong to King Agamemnon. Take what you will, but why in his name?"

"Soon, my lady," he spoke to her over his back, "I will have my own name. It is on the beaches of Troy. Then, perhaps, I will fight no more. What name have you?"

"My lord," she said, and backed toward the doorway of the temple, where the last light had faded over the ocean and the sky turned to lapis lazuli blue. "I am the wife of your King Agamemnon."

He turned for one last look at her, and she was glad she could not see his face in the dark. "I thought so, Lady Clytemnestra. And there we differ, because I know that I must fight to find my own peace. Agamemnon knows this, though he pretends not to. No words from you can stop me. But where do you enter? Exit? Do you not have your own name, Agamemnon's Queen? Is your peace his peace?"

She knew she should have left long before, but it was better late than not at all. She picked up her skirts and ran from the temple.